Jolly Mood
by maya295
Summary: House and Cuddy are at Sam and Wilson's, finishing dinner. It's time to leave but House wants to stay a little longer. And he's in a playful mood. So he suggests a game. The rule is simple: the first one who blushes, loses. Warning: SMUT! :-D
1. Chapter 1

_Hi everyone,_

_So, I've had this one-shot in my head for a while now and I suddenly felt the need to write it._

_It's a little bit AU now, because it involves Sam too, so it means she and Wilson haven't split but are still together, which as you'll see is very convenient for the purpose of my story._

_This is nothing special, though, and actually, if there were such choices among the 'genre' categories, I'd have probably picked: "Silly + Just For Fun"_

_But they're not in the list, so I chose "Romance + Friendship" instead. It's something light anyway as the title indicates. _

_For the anecdote, at first, I wanted to call this story "Playful Mood" but then, I switched it to **Jolly** Mood, because, in French, we have the word "JOLI" which is pronounced almost similarly to "JOLLY" but which means beautiful. And, I liked it that, somehow, it could imply both playful and beautiful to describe the word 'mood'in that one-shot_

_At least, it fitted House well, here, I thought._

_Anyway, I hope you'll like reading it, just as I liked writing it! :)_

* * *

**** JOLLY MOOD ****

It starts innocently, just as any kind of stupid, and of course kinky idea that crosses House's mind in these after-dinner, usually floating moments nobody really knows how to fill, ending up leaving hastily to get back home instead. Except House doesn't want to get home, at least not yet. They had a very enjoyable dinner, all homemade of course, and House is even inclined to admit Wilson's cuisine was competitive enough to give him the desire to return the invitation, maybe up the ante with another dinner, at his place this time.

Sam, for once, has been… bearable, or maybe it is Cuddy's presence, amazing and perfect as ever which has made those hours passed so fast, but the truth is House wants to stay a little longer. And, if there's anything to expect from Cuddy's current unquenchable thirst that would promise him a wild, uncensored _after_, even maybe _ride home_, House is definitely willing to make sure her glass of wine isn't going to empty anytime soon.

But it feels like the end of the evening approaches nonetheless. Wilson stands up and starts piling up the dishes ready to take them off of the table. Sam stands up as well and begins gathering items too. Her hand comes dangerously close to the bottle of wine in the process and House promptly snatches it out of her reach before she gets the chance to take it away from him. She raises an eyebrow, amused, and House cautiously puts the bottle back on the table.

"Game time!" he exclaims, while Wilson who has walked in the kitchen, is putting the plates down into the sink.

He turns around and eyes House suspiciously over the counter. He knows that intonation too well to be completely relaxed by his friend's suggestion and the semi-suspicious gaze he sends back House's way is undeniable proof of his instinctive hesitation to feel excited at the moment.

"Come on!" House challenges with a mischievous smile. "It's not even late. And I'm sure the ladies are in a playful mood right now!" he adds with a theatrical waggling movement of his eyebrows for emphasis, as he turns to Cuddy who just looks back at him with a blank face.

"Didn't you once tell me some of House's sentences should be read as signals to _run as fast as you can_?" Sam asks with a slight pout, turning to Wilson who is now coming back from the kitchen. "Isn't that one, one of them?"

"If you wanna run when I'm suggesting games, then I wonder what you're gonna do when you'll have serious reasons to run away from me," House declares, with a little smirk, "teleportation, maybe?"

"Why would I have _serious_ reasons to run away from _you_?" Sam asks, playing dangerously with fire, and being aware of it, as the little sparkle of defy in her eyes tends to demonstrate.

House opens his mouth to answer but the soft touch of Cuddy's hand on his forearm diverts his attention just in time. He turns his head to the side and she smiles at him, one of her devastating smiles she knows he is completely unable to resist.

"My glass is empty," she pouts, and puts out the crystal cup practically under his nose for him to see.

House beams triumphantly and grabs the bottle of wine. But instead of pouring some ruby nectar in her glass right away, he stands up and nonchalantly walks in the living room with the bottle in his hand. Every one stares at him, a bit perplexed. After carefully putting the bottle down on the coffee table in front of him, House awkwardly slides on the floor, and sits, his back resting against the couch, wincing for a second when he has to bend his bad leg in the process, but quickly stretching it into a more comfortable position.

"What are you doing?" Wilson is the first to ask.

Cuddy swivels on her chair and looks at him with a coy smile, indicating she already knows his answers.

"I'm making myself comfy for the game," House replies. "The yuppie chairs your decorator sold you may look very… trendy, but at some point, they're just becoming ill-fitting for my thigh. We'll be better here to play… Honey buns!" he then calls out playfully, without actually looking in Cuddy's direction but bending over to take the bottle on the table, "Didn't you say you needed a refill?"

She instantly stands up, ready to join him, taking her glass with her. Wilson rolls his eyes, and puffs visibly annoyed, which upsets Cuddy a little.

"Wilson, come on!" she whispers to him, so low she's almost just mouthing the words, while looking him intensely in the eyes, purposely triggering his sense of guilt with an imploring gaze.

She's a little tipsy but she feels good. The evening's been nice until then and House seems in such a relaxed mood. _Why can't they just enjoy the moment and have fun?_ A little voice inside her, which has been shut down for too long, wants to protest. Wilson catches her look, and all his resistance melts down in a second. This is stupid, indeed. They sure can use some carefree moments, just between friends, laugh, and even maybe create bonds, especially after all the drama they've lived through in the past months, he thinks looking in Sam's direction.

Wilson sighs, surrendering, and grabs the glasses on the table.

"Okay," he says, and walks in House's direction, carrying three extra glasses with him.

An immense grateful smile flickers on Cuddy's lips and she exchanges a look with Sam, who smirks back at her suspiciously, not ready to jump in excitement just yet, but still willing to give it a try. They all leave the dining open space towards the living room. Wilson plops down into the club armchair in front of House, quickly followed by Sam who sits down on the large arm of the chair next to him, while Cuddy, across the table, seductively walks over House's stretched legs and bends over to give him a quick but sexy peck on the lips, before taking a seat in the couch behind him.

"Gimme your glass," House says to her, self-confidently as she wiggles to adjust herself, and drops her high-heeled shoes on the floor, bending her legs and sliding her now bare feet under her butt. Her knees touch House's shoulders. She hands him out her glass then and he promptly seizes it to pour her a generous volume of wine, filling it almost to the rim.

"House! Stop, that's too much!" Cuddy protests, unconvincingly, giggling a little.

He turns around and gives the full glass back to her, without a comment, just a beguiling smile, which irresistibly radiates male pheromones and sends a little warm tickling shiver down the small of her back, imperceptibly causing her to arch forward, as she accepts the glass from his hand and stares intensely into his eyes as if they were both alone in the room.

"So!" Wilson exclaimed with an oddly high-pitched voice, betraying his discomfort at the obvious rising sexual tension between his friends and fearing, if he doesn't stop them, they might start taking clothes off next. "What's that game you have in mind that you want to play?"

House instantly turns his focus back on Wilson and smiles widely, visibly already thrilled by the prospect of his game.

"Quite easy," he explains. "We ask each other questions and the first one of us who manages to make someone blush wins!"

Wilson's eyes widen in bafflement and he stiffens in his armchair, alarmed.

"That's it? That's your game? You want people to ask each other questions until they embarrass someone enough to make them blush?" The look on Wilson's face conveys nothing but pure incredulous dismay.

"Come on, it'll be fun!" House counters, with a slightly wicked grin.

"_Fun_? Yeah, sure, maybe this is _your_ definition of fun, but seriously…" Wilson shifts uncomfortably in his armchair, barely daring to look up at Sam who, though he would probably refuse to admit it, is the primary source of his concern right now. Truth is, he desperately wants to avoid throwing his girlfriend into House's claws and watch him shred her into pieces with his perfectly inappropriate questions.

"What's the price?" Sam then asks challengingly, literally catching Wilson off guard, just when he was about to decline House's offer politely and try to talk everyone into playing whatever board games he could think of instead.

"So you're playing?" House challenges.

"No, we're not…" Wilson replies, unsure.

"Oh please, James!" Cuddy suddenly groans. "House is right: this is just for fun! What kind of bad things do you fear can happen?"

"Huh? Do you know House _at all_?" Wilson asks with a bemused face.

"Certainly as much as you do... If not more…" she says in a teasing voice, sliding her hand over House's shoulder and beginning to slowly fondle the round shape of his bicep. House tilts his head back to meet her gaze and sends her a cocky smile.

But Sam's deliberate cough draws his attention back to her.

"I thought we were just going to play, you know, just to entertain ourselves," He tells her. "I was not necessarily thinking about any price."

Wilson shakes his head, unconvinced, as if saying: 'yeah sure, you willing to play without any counterpart… that's a concept I'm gonna believe!' But, the one thing he doesn't know, though, is that there is indeed a counterpart; only, it has nothing to do with the game itself, really. Right now, the game's only become a pretext. What House furiously wants is just to see Cuddy loosen up, for his sole further benefit. This, is foreplay now. Wilson and Sam are just convenient presences to spice up the game a little in the process. He knows Cuddy's competitive nature and he knows she'll enjoy playing the game _for him_, and that she'll take it seriously too, just for the sake of proving a point to Wilson. What kind of point, he's not sure, but he's witnessed Cuddy put Wilson back in place with a remark full of territory possessiveness more than once in the past and, he has to confess, this is the kind of things that most undeniably turns him on. So there is no way the combination of wine, naughty games and an extra dose of that odd, little grain of irrational jealousy Cuddy displays when it comes to claim House as hers over Wilson, become anything other than pure delight for him. And House is ready to make any kind of concession to reach that goal, if needed.

"This is less fun when there's no price," Sam objects.

"Ok, how about a bottle of champagne?" House declares offhandedly, hoping his suggestion will be enough to motivate Sam and Wilson to finally enter the game.

"You have no bottle of champagne with you," Wilson feels the need to remind him.

"Yeah, but you have."

"Alright! So, to sum up, the price is a bottle of champagne _I _am providing?"

"Yes, but this is purely a question of convenience," House argues, smiling.

"What if I win?"

"I'll make sure to have a case delivered on your desk at PPTH first thing tomorrow morning."

"Can we start to play?" Cuddy demands impatiently, as she bends over House and grips his shoulder for leverage, not to topple over him while she's putting her now _empty_ glass of wine on the coffee table.

"I agree," Sam says leaning to the side slightly and wrapping Wilson's shoulders with her arm. "Let's start to play!"

"Cool," House says, rubbing his palms against each other with eagerness.

"How do we determine who asks the questions and to whom?" Wilson enquires, resignedly, knowing that his only chance of salvation at this point is only guaranteed by the level of rules he's going to ensure.

"We're four, so…"

"Oh, we don't pair up by couples?" Cuddy exclaimed, sounding disappointed.

"No," Sam quickly replies keenly, not giving House enough time to think of a suitable disagreeing answer himself, "Every man for himself!"

The mere idea of having Sam as an ally, without her even knowing she is, makes House inwardly smile. _Beam_ to be more precise.

"Are you sure, honey?" Wilson asks, looking already defeated.

"Yes," Sam replies assertively and it leaves no doubt about whether she really means it or not.

"We could use dice," House starts to suggest, though not really sounding very enthusiastic. "Two dice combined would allow scoring a maximum of twelve. Since we're four, we could each pick three numbers between one and twelve, and then if we throw the dice and one of our numbers is out, it'll be our turn so…"

"Oh please!" Cuddy puffs, cutting him short. "That rule is totally boring! Who cares about whose turn it is and I don't know what else? That's a _game_! We just throw questions and that's all!" And before anyone has time to react or protest, she sits up straight a little and stares at Wilson with a coy smile. "Wilson!," she calls challengingly. "Why are you afraid to play that game?"

Wilson stares at her with his mouth agape for a few seconds and then he swallows uneasily.

"I… uh… I'm not afraid!" he protests stuttering a little in the process.

"Has the game already started?" Sam asks for clarification.

"Uhmm," House pouts, "maybe we should call it a warm-up for now, cuz, judging by the color of Wonder Boy's cheeks, I'm not sure he's completely ready yet!"

"Wha…WHAT?" Wilson exclaimed, vexed. "I'm as ready as everyone else!"

"Don't get angry," Sam whispers, as she leans down a little to come closer to his face and speak into his ear, patting affectionately on his shoulder. "You're always reddening when you're angry."

The look of complete disbelief and possible consternation that spreads on Wilson's face speaks volumes about how much support he's now aware he'll be getting from his girlfriend in this situation. "_Every man for himself, indeed!_" he thinks. Well, in that case…

"What are you doing?" House asks, incredulous as Wilson suddenly stands up and walks away towards the kitchen. "You're giving up? Already?"

"On the contrary!" Wilson replies, opening the fridge and bending over to take something in the bottle compartment. A second later, he straightens up and waves a bottle of champagne triumphantly in the air. "Just getting the price, so we can finally get this game started!"

"Atta boy!" House guffaws with a groan.

Wilson comes back and sits back in the leather club armchair. He lays the bottle in the middle of the table, solemnly, like a trophy waiting to be claimed. Taking advantage of this floating moment, House grabs the bottle of wine and, not losing track of his own secret goal, starts pouring a dose of dark burgundy liquid in the glasses in front of him.

"Not for me, thanks," Sam declines, putting out her hand to stop him.

House squints at her interrogatively.

"Afraid of losing control?" he tantalizes.

"Nope!" she answers a bit too quickly.

House's eyebrows arch in mock surprise. Sam stares at him, visibly challenged, and raises her chin up.

"Only half a glass then," she finally yields.

House tilts his head down, faking to concentrate on his gesture, to hide his victorious smile. A minute later, he hands every one out a glass of wine. When he's about to turn around to give Cuddy hers, he's surprised to see her slowly slide at his side and sit down next to him on the floor, her back against the couch as well. She sends him a killing smile and puts out her hand to take her glass.

"Let the best man win!" she purrs, tinkling her glass against his, planting her sparkling eyes into his.

Not really aware of it, House licks his lower lips with his tongue, narrows his eyes and stares intensely at her. He feels drawn to her face, irresistibly, and he leans down slowly, imperceptibly even, just a few inches forwards, mesmerized by the power of her gaze, the rosy pulp of her lips, the perfect softness of her skin...

"Ahem!" Wilson coughs, clearing his throat conspicuously.

House readjusts himself and turns in his direction with an innocent smile.

"Sorry!" he says, not in the least bit looking like he is. "Cuddy's just wishing me luck."

"Yeah, you'll need some for sure!" Wilson teases, in a tone that's supposed to sound a little provoking, "So House! Why don't you tell us… where were you today, around three?" he asks with a self-satisfied smile, looking proud of himself for throwing his little bomb.

"He was in the clinic," Cuddy answers assertively.

"Ha! Yeah, but…" Wilson begins, his smile widening, but soon fading out when Cuddy adds:

"In exam room two, taking a nap," she completes calmly, taking Wilson aback.

"What? You mean you _knew _he was… sleeping?" he says, aghast.

Cuddy shakes her head and looks at him with a sorry look.

"Duh! Wilson… Come on…" She brings her glass to her mouth and slowly drinks a sip of wine before carrying on, keeping her voice unthreatening and neutral, "By the way House! I think you know what that means, right? You're gonna make up twice your skipped clinic hours tomorrow which, if I'm not mistaken, brings it to… err…" She looks up for a second and frowns. "Twenty… two... four... no, six! Forget it! You'd need at least two days to make up…"

House shoots her a coy glance, not feeling embarrassed for one second when he realizes she actually knew he wasn't working, not really surprised she actually does, since he can't even remember when the last time she didn't know exactly what he was doing or where he was hiding was. He almost wants to take her in his arms suddenly, but instead just looks at her fondly for a short moment before turning back to Wilson.

"Wow! Is that your game strategy to make me blush?" he exclaims with a wide beam. "I think you really gotta get tougher or that bottle of champagne is not going back in your fridge!"

Wilson opens his mouth to protest but House is more prompt than him and speaks before he can.

"Sam!" he hails playfully. "Where's the wildest place you and Wilson ever did it?"

"House, you are not going to make this about sex!" Wilson instantly protests angrily.

"Why? Do you know a more perfect subject to blush over?"

"Your jerkiness? But of course, that would require for you to have a conscience!" Wilson scowls grumpily.

"So, you pass?" House asks Sam quietly, conspicuously ignoring Wilson, who's occupied with checking on his girlfriend with a panicked gaze.

Sam readjusts herself on the arm of the chair and smiles.

"We did it once… in the MRI room."

Cuddy practically chokes on her wine upon hearing Sam's confession but, as soon as she recovers, she shoots both Sam and Wilson a deathly administrative glare from across the table.

"You had sex in an MRI machine that costs half a million dollar?" she blusters.

Wilson gulps and looks down, contrite, unable to sustain her gaze. Sam, however unmoved, clarifies serenely.

"Not in the machine, _per se_. We did it on a chair in the monitoring room."

"Wow!" House can't help chuckling. "While a patient was undergoing an exam?" he asks, fascinated.

Sam rolls her eyes and puffs.

"Yeah sure!" she replies sarcastically. "Of course not! We were alone…"

"You mobilized the MRI room to frolic during work hours?" Cuddy enquires surprising herself with how much calm she's actually welcoming the news, even finding it oddly funny, in a way.

"I'm sure it didn't last long enough to prevent too many patients from accessing the exam room." House says in an exaggeratedly reassuring tone. "Maybe just half the usual duration of the…"

"Can we drop this now?" Wilson huffs, sounding utterly upset.

"See?" House tells him grinning, "It's not about sex. Your sense of guilt is gonna make you blush long before you'll have to handle any more of my embarrassing questions."

Cuddy narrows her eyes and leans forward putting her hand on House's thigh to steady her.

"He's not blushing," she declares, with an official tone, as if she were speaking as some sort of referee in the game.

House's eyes fall on her hand on his thigh and although Wilson's cheeks undeniably flushed in embarrassment, even just for a second, he keeps his focus on the warm sensation of her touch on his leg, and most of all, the fact that she seems unaware of having her hand on him, even less it ever so slightly beginning to stroke him a little, just above the kneecap, almost innocently…

"You're safe," House states decisively. "At least, Cuddy says so..."

"Hmm, yeah. But we'll talk about that later!" She threatens, half-seriously, half-smiling, with a cute wrinkle of the nose.

"And you?" Sam suddenly asks nonchalantly.

"What?" Cuddy says, taken off guard.

"I mean, where was your guys' wildest place?"

"You're asking that _to me_?" House says with a gruff voice. Sam nods silently. "Well… it was…" He turns to Cuddy's and interrogates her with a quizzical gaze.

"It was… uh… it was on the hood of Wilson's car." He glances at her and catches her flickering a swift side-smile to him. "Last week… Tuesday, I think."

"WHAT?" Wilson exclaims indignant, and then shakes his head vigorously, closing his eyes shut, as if to prevent any image from forming inside his mind.

"Yeah, we'd love to do it on my bike," House explains, with a serious face turning to Cuddy for approval, "but we fear it might not be steady enough, you know... Right _baby_?" Cuddy holds back her smile and nods solemnly.

"Right. And my car was dirty cuz I didn't have time to get it washed so… we arrived in the parking garage and your car was there… all shiny…" she stops and sighs, looking at Wilson, as she bites her lips with a look of mischief on her face.

Wilson puffs and stares at her, then at House, appalled.

"You're lying."

"Nooo," Cuddy protests, holding back a giggle.

"You never did it on the hood of my car! Or anyone's car for that matter!" he states assertively. "Even less, in the hospital's parking garaget!"

"So what?" Cuddy concedes. "The goal of the game is to NOT blush. Am I blushing?"

"No, but you don't answer the question either."

"Where does it say I have to?"

Wilson's mouth drops open in astonishment.

"So you can say whatever you want, and… that's it!"

"Yeah, deal with it," House answers with a grin.

"And Sam just confessed you and her did it in the MRI room, so don't push this too far," Cuddy warns.

"You go, girl!" House exclaims proudly, sitting up straight and challenging the "other couple" across the table with a victorious gaze.

"Uh… Who said we _really_ did it in the MRI room?" Wilson attempts a self-confident reply to confuse Cuddy.

But her reaction is immediate and final. She bursts into laughter and shakes her head, bouncing her curls off her forehead.

"Wilson, nice try, but you can't lie. You did it in the MRI room. That's all."

Wilson hangs his head in shame, defeated, and Cuddy wiggles triumphantly for a second, looking absolutely content with herself. House's lungs inflate with an irresistible feeling of pride, which he can't really explain but which, at the same time, undeniably makes him feel good. And _right_. As if things were beginning to fall back in place in his life. _Finally_. He wants to kiss her in that moment; make love to her. He wants _her_. Damn! He wants her every minute of the day and every second of the night, when he can't sleep and he just lies there, beside her, watching her chest going up and down and counting her breathings, cradled by the soft sound of her quiet, almost inaudible snores. He didn't even tell her she snores. She'd get pissed, but the truth is he finds it adorable.

He looks at her, and instead of kissing her like he wants to, he leans down to grab the bottle of wine.

"Want some more wine?"

"Sure!"

Her smile is bewitching. He pours the alcohol into her glass and gives it to her. She brings it to her lips, sipping several gulps elegantly before putting it back on the table. House sighs voluptuously. God, she's sexy!

"How many times a week do you guys do it?" House asks then, the question suddenly popping in his head having probably a lot to do with how intense his desire for Cuddy is right now.

"I'm NOT answering that question!" Wilson protests outraged.

"Really? Wow, so that must not be very often…" House teases.

"I can lie!" Wilson hits back, with his chin up.

"Yeah, even better! So now, whatever number you're gonna answer, we'll know it's an overestimation." House chuckles gleefully, and Cuddy giggles too, with her head down, trying to hide her amusement. Damn, that game is really enjoyable, House thinks, staring at Wilson, who's just realized he's been trapped at his own game.

"Oh please!" Sam huffs, rolling her eyes. "We don't need to lie." She peers at House daringly. "There's nothing to be ashamed of, Wilson and I do it three or four times a week," she declares with a slight edge of pride in her tone.

"WHAT?" Cuddy exclaims all of a sudden, looking totally stunned. "How is that possible? You don't even work in the same hospital!" She purses her lips and swings her head to the side to look at House with sorry eyes.

House frowns, incredulous, not sure he understands where the problem is.

"How is that even relevant to the question?" he asks carefully, still intrigued by her reaction.

"Yeah, I mean, how many times do _you_…" Wilson starts, taking advantage of the situation to bounce back the question.

Cuddy pouts sulkily and shrugs.

"Well, it depends… once, or sometimes twice but…"

"You and House only do it _once _a week?" Sam repeats, visibly surprised by the revelation. "Wow, I'd never thought you…"

"Now, wait, wait, wait!" Cuddy interrupts, seizing her glass of wine. "What's the question again?"

House suddenly realizes where this is going and he beams, turning to the side to look at her.

"The question is," he clarifies, still smiling, "'how many times _a week_ do we do the crazy sexy mambo?"

"Oh my god! You meant _a week_?" Cuddy giggles ingenuously. "I thought the question was 'how many times _a day_?' silly me…" She takes a deep breath and brings the glass to her mouth to drink another sip of wine, while looking at Wilson and Sam's stunned faces over the rim.

"Once a day…" Sam mumbles.

"Or twice…" Cuddy corrects, matter-of-factly.

"Wow!" Wilson's mouth stays open for a second and he stares at Cuddy with a blank face. "You've been together for what, like, six, or seven months and you still…"

"What can I say?" House declares, solemnly. "She's insatiable and, I aim to serve…"

"And he serves _well_…" Cuddy adds coyly, with a low voice.

"You're tipsy," House whispers into Cuddy's ear, leaning down to her so that she's the only one to hear what he says. "But please don't change a thing…"

Cuddy throws her head back and lets out a brief throaty laugh. Wilson gulps, uneasy, and his Adam's apple looks like it's going to tear open his trachea on its way down his throat. But he coughs, to chase away his discomfort, and sets his lips, taking in a long puff of air through his nostrils, remaining as imperturbable as ever.

"Damn!" Cuddy grumbles. "I thought that would be it! But I must admit you _do_ know how to control yourself…"

Wilson can't help laughing when he hears such a spontaneous confession.

"We do our best!" he answers, accompanying his words with a chivalrous bowing nod of the head.

"Why don't you kiss him now?" Sam suggests suddenly, interrupting the civilities.

"Who, me?" Wilson asks, panicked.

"Watch out…" House instantly groans, stiffening.

Sam notices his alpha male reaction and smiles, amused.

"No, I meant you. Cuddy, why don't you kiss House?"

"This is not 'truth or dare'," House replies, with a definite tone.

"Yeah, but the goal is to make someone blush, right?"

Cuddy slowly puts her glass back on the coffee table in front of her and then she looks Sam right in the eyes with a faint bitchy smile.

"Sure! But the ones who may end up blushing aren't probably the ones you think about…"

"How would I know that? We never saw you two share a _real_ kiss." Sam replies tit for tat, with the same smile.

Cuddy turns to the side, and then starts leaning towards House's face, resolute to prove to Sam she's dangerously playing with fire if she wants to challenge her in that department! Damn, she's a hot kisser and she's gonna show them… But, just as her slightly parted lips are about to connect with House's, he firmly grips her by the wrists and draws her apart determinedly.

"Hey girls! What the hell?" Wilson harrumphs, quite simultaneously. He shifts into the armchair to turn in Sam's direction and stares disapprovingly at her. "Sam! Seriously, this is getting a bit sick, here… What are you thinking about?"

"Yeah, Sam, what are you thinking about?" House repeats, mimicking Wilson's tone and adding a bit of emphasis to it, frowning in fake shock. "If you need a porn demonstration, you know, we're not the right persons…"

"House!" Wilson demurs with a furious glare.

Sam's eyes widen out and Wilson instantly lifts his hand to cover her knee reassuringly.

"He's a jerk. It's a bad joke. Forget it," he sends a cold-hearted glower in House's direction, promising him a slow, painful death if he dares to say one more word.

House is undoubtedly in a jolly mood tonight, so he just smiles back and nods, indicating he's gotten the message and will keep the juicy details for himself. But, by the way Sam glances from Wilson to him then back to Wilson with a perplexed frown, and a look of perfect incredulity, it seems he won't even need to be the one bringing the answers anyway, as he's now sure there'll be some clarification in the Wilson-Carr's residence once Cuddy and he will be gone.

"I could have handled kissing you," Cuddy confesses in a low whisper against the skin of his neck, as she bends to the side and rests her head atop his shoulder for a short while, rubbing her cheek against the cotton of his creased shirt.

"Yeah, I know," he tells her, grabbing her by the arm to straighten her up and pull her aside. Reluctantly. But that's not something he'll admit.

Sam, who hasn't said a word, studies them attentively from across the table, looking intrigued and almost fascinated at the same time. If Cuddy was paying attention, she'd say she maybe even looks a little jealous. But that, of course, is not something Sam will admit either.

"Ok, back to questions then!" she says, shifting to the side and slithering ever so slightly towards Wilson into the armchair, and then, just nonchalantly enough, sliding her hand in the back of his head and combing his hair with her fingers. "What happened after the crane collapsed that got you two to get together?"

"That's none of your business," House replies with a groan.

"Ohh? Is that an embarrassing question?" Sam teases.

"Nope!" House narrows his eyes and stares at her with a poker face.

"Maybe you'd prefer to go back to the kissing option then?" Sam proposes, with an undeniable glitter of revenge in her eyes, saying that she didn't quite appreciate the confusing, incomprehensible porn allusion he just made a few moments before. No, she didn't like being left without a clue, at all.

"Either. It's just that it's private," House objects, adamant.

"Sure and the wildest place where James and I did it, isn't!" she retorts, hardly managing to hide her annoyance.

"Not my fault if you answered the question!" House scoffs. "Nobody put a gun to your head and forced you."

"So you're not answering?" Sam insists. "Wow, what's that dirty secret you can't share that makes it look so mysterious?"

Cuddy notices the tension, and she straightens her back against the couch, just enough to look Sam directly in the eyes over the table without lifting her head up.

"I went to his place," she says in a very calm voice. "And I told him I loved him. Luckily _**for me**_," she stresses the words deliberately, while her hand reaches for House's along his thigh and starts stroking it lightly with her fingertips, "he didn't throw me out. We made love. Twice… I mean, in a row, because otherwise, we did it four times that day."

Silence falls in the room; the kind of silence that could easily be cut in slices with a knife.

"Does that answer your question?" Cuddy then adds with a neutral voice, which sounds icier than a thousand threats could have.

Sam keeps her face unaffected and she nods slightly. Wilson and House lock eyes and exchange a faint, helpless look. Wilson's gaze seems to be saying 'sorry' and House's quiet, almost smug smile seems to answer 'that's fine!' Cuddy's hand has now slid inside his and he squeezes it gently. Heedless of Wilson's previous objection to display any physical signs of affection in front of each other, House then slowly lifts Cuddy's hand to his mouth and, delicately twisting it around so that her palm faces up, he leans down and lays a soft kiss in the hollow of her wrist.

"You're right," he adds teasingly, looking up to meet her eyes over her hand. "You are one lucky girl."

"Oh and by the way, Wilson," Cuddy suddenly adds, offhandedly. "I was _really_ there when you broke into his apartment through the kitchen's window to check on House. Five minutes earlier and you would even have interrupted our third time, right?" She smiles contentedly and turns her head towards House, searching for his eyes.

"Absolutely! A wild third time, if I recall it correctly."

"One of many wild ones…" she adds, her smile widening. She licks her bottom lip a bit, and takes her hand back from his.

House gulps but there's no uneasiness in his reaction. It's just that, they have to get out of here now, he thinks. The desire inside him is almost burning. The game was fun, and he truly enjoyed every second of it, but there is nothing like what he's feeling in that precise moment, looking at her, and wanting nothing other than to be with her, _alone_, and caress every inch of her naked body, surrendered to him, unreservedly. But he's a proud jerk and he doesn't like to lose though. So while he's already thinking about the moment when he will slowly undress her, he needs to win that damn game first. For the sake of it!

"We should probably go," he says, hiding his strategy behind a very polite smile, and very conveniently taking Wilson and Sam's defences down at the same time.

Wilson's shoulders instantly fall down at least three inches, and Sam, probably not seeing any reason for it anymore removes her hand from Wilson's hair and sighs heavily. Relief? House smiles inwardly, before he can reap the fruit of his victory with one last question.

"I was wondering if you would accept a foursome one of these days? You know, Jimmy, I never dared to tell you but… Sam turns me on a little."

Wilson's eyes almost pop out of his head and his face instantly flushes with anger.

"Are you completely out of your mind?" he rants, furious. "Sam, I'm… I'm sorry," he adds, turning to the side to look at her with imploring eyes, hoping she didn't take offense.

Curiously, she looks back at him almost angry herself but… at him.

"That's… fine, James," she puffs, upset, "House's not serious anyway." She sighs, defeated, when she acknowledges the reason of House's beaming face in front of them.

"What would you say this color is now?" House queries with a bit of sarcasm in his voice, "Magenta? Crimson red? Burgundy?"

Wilson suddenly realizing that it was just a strategic – and stupid – move to win the game, stares at him with more fury.

"You're not serious, are you?" he grouses.

House can't help chuckling. "Good Lord, Wilson!" he exclaims, victoriously. "I just asked permission to do your girlfriend _in front of mine_. How serious do you think I am, really?" He turns to Cuddy who's remained silent. "This is fun, right?"

She smiles fondly at him.

"Give me that bottle of champagne," House claims. "I think we can all agree to say that I just won! It was so easy by the way, and very entertaining!"

"But… but…" Wilson stutters in disbelief, not sure if he still needs to be angry or just appalled by what's just happened.

Sam pats him gently on the shoulder. "James, that's ok."

"You should have known I wasn't serious," House says to rub his triumph in his friend's face, grabbing the bottle of champagne, "because Cuddy didn't even flinch. I mean, do you seriously think that this lioness of a woman here would have let me suggest that without jumping at my throat and sucking my blood to death if I'd meant it, just even remotely?"

Cuddy turns to face him slowly and sends him a lustful, hot, confusing gaze.

"Or…" she says with a low, throaty voice, "maybe the reason why I didn't say anything is because I'm not against the idea myself. Truth is, I wonder what it'd be like to do it with Sam…"

House stares at her, taken aback, looking completely astonished.

"Wha… WHAT?" he slammers, while flush rapidly spreads to his cheeks.

"Or with Wilson... while you watch," she continues, her smile widening. "Or you... with Wil..."

House starts to cringe and a grimace contorts his face.

"Don't say it!" he warns, while a cold shudder runs down his spine.

Cuddy observes his reaction with delight and suddenly bursts into spontaneous laughter.

"Hah! That bottle is SO mine!" she yells triumphantly, snatching the champagne from House's hand.

Wilson starts to laugh as well.

"Hahaha, she got you, House! You should see your face…"

"Shut up!" House groans, through clenched teeth.

"Oh My God, this is priceless!" Wilson continues, incapable of hiding his bliss to see his friend trapped at his own game.

"Yeah, but at least I did Cuddy on your car hood."

"Oh come on, House," Cuddy says still giggling. "That's not even true!"

House glares at her and it makes her laugh even more.

"You're such a bad loser!" she teases. "But if it makes you feel any better," she turns to face Wilson and Sam and confesses, "we did it on the kitchen counter, at Briganti's."

"Briganti? The Italian restaurant?" Wilson asks, baffled.

Cuddy smiles mischievously and puts her hand on House's forearm, possessively.

"Yes. And don't look at me with _that_ face, we were alone you dummy! Despite what House says, we're not some kind of exhibitionist pervs. We were just…" She stops and turns to look at House with an intense gaze, full of words she's said to him so many times already. Words, after the doubts, the fears, the mistrust that she can now say to him, while knowing with certainly that he'll believe them.

"Well, all I can say," she adds with a smile, "is that House is a great cook. And he knows how to spice things up!"

House, despite losing the game, can't help but stick out his chest proudly. Wilson drops his face into his palms and Sam nods appreciatively.

Squeezing the bottle of champagne against her chest, Cuddy pushes herself up off the floor and stands up.

"Come on stud!" she says, putting out her hand to House to help him stand up too. "Let's go home, drink that bottle of champagne and… do naughty things! I'm completely horny now!" she adds, giggling shamelessly and enjoying Wilson exaggeratedly embarassed reaction.

"You're completely drunk!" House rectifies, frowning disapprovingly.

They both take their coats and put them on, saying their goodbyes to Wilson and Sam, who look as if they still aren't completely over the total strangeness, albeit amusing, atmosphere of their evening together.

A short while later, after leaving the loft and their friends, House and Cuddy stand in the elevator and go down to the building garage where their car is parked. Cuddy turns to House and looks at him with mischief.

"You know, I know you set that stupid game up just to find a pretext to stay and make me drink a little more than I would have if we'd come home just after dinner," she says, with her chin up, daring him to deny.

"Me? Duh! Why would I do that?"

"Because you know you're lucky when I'm tipsy!" she replies, not in the least embarrassed, laughing throatily.

He wants to laugh too but just for one more second, he looks at her with gravity.

"I'm lucky all the same when you're not," he tells her, and finally he can kiss her the way he's dreamed to kiss her all night long.

* * *

_**A/N**_

_So here it is! See? I told you it was just a silly outburst I had._

_But I thought it was fun and I had this in my head nagging me for quite a while (actually for those who read my other stories, I'd started writing down some bits at the same time I was writing "The Wild Escape" last summer…_

_Anyway, I thought about something…_

_Since I made it clear that House's goal, from the beginning on was to kind of get Cuddy in a playful, sexual mood, I'm willing to add an illustration of what it could be, IF you want…_

_So, should I? ;)_

_Happy New Year everyone! All the best for you and your loved ones in 2011 ~ maya_


	2. Chapter 2

_Hi everybody!_

_so apparently, most of you wanted to have an "illustration" of that Jolly Mood that animated House during that carefree evening at his friend's._

_Ask and ye shall receive! so here it is... an illustration! somehow, the concept of it was already hidden between the lines of the first part. some of you had even guessed its context... :-]_

_I hope you'll like it!_

* * *

**** An Illustration of Jolly Mood ****

The elevator door opens to the parking garage and the little 'ding' jerks them out of the passionate kiss they're sharing. House's hand slowly slides from her jaw to the line of her neck, and then envelops the round shape of her shoulder before dropping down along his thigh while Cuddy's hands gently release their tight grip on his coat's lapels. She wears high heels, but she's standing on her tiptoes, like she does each time she's so enraptured in one of their kisses, she wishes she could fly to reach higher for his mouth and not lose one inch of space between her lips and his.

"Mmm," she moans softly while House nips at her bottom lip leisurely, just before drawing apart from her face.

They stare at each other and smile, but the elevator door slowly starts to shut again and House jumps forwards, blocking it with his hand before it closes. Cuddy lets out a brief throaty laugh and steps outside the car. Her heels click on the concrete and it resonates in the emptiness of the garage. She walks assertively, her chin up, her hair waving from left to right in her back, her hips sashaying sensually at each one of her steps. House is right behind her and he drinks in her gorgeous frame, the sound of his heartbeats thudding inside his chest and giving rhythm to his determined limp. Her car is parked just a few yards away, on the right, and he can see it from the central aisle but at the same time, unexpectedly, he also spots another one, right there, on the left corner of the parking garage and he almost doesn't give it a second thought. Suddenly it becomes an urge. In one long stride, he catches up with her and he decidedly grabs her hand, pulling her with him in that direction.

"Hey, what are you doing?" she protests. "We're parked here, we're…"

"Shhh," he says, and he drags her with him, mightily, even though he can feel she doesn't really resist his call.

Still, she holds back her hand, showing just a glimpse of that little predictable hesitation, fleeting and unsurprising, when she recognizes Wilson's car, parked just in front of them.

"House…"

He stops and turns around, abruptly, and she topples forwards, practically falling into his arms. He clasps her in his embrace and stares at her with a winning, self-confident smile.

"You know you want this," he blows on her silky skin. "Tell me you want this."

She stares at him, with an impenetrable gaze but doesn't answer. Yet, he can tell by the way she gulps and parts her lips slightly, tilting her head to the side that she's struggling with herself.

"You're drunk remember? Which is supposed to make me happy…"

Cuddy laughs and shakes her head.

"Not _that_ kind of happy!" she rebuts with a giggle, the sparkle in her eyes almost telling the opposite.

He wraps one strong arm around her waist and brings her against his hips. Between them, the bottle of champagne is the last solid rampart that still prevents him from squashing her passionately against his chest.

"Ohh yeah, _that_ kind of happy…" he contradicts, beaming like a spoiled child who knows he's going to get his surprise anyway.

Her gaze is defying and she bits her lips, unaware of the effect it has on him, only adding more intensity to the desire that's brewing inside him. Unable to wait one more second, and taking advantage of the fact that she's undeniably lowered her guard a little since he took her in his arms, House suddenly takes a step forward and his whole body pushes her backwards with him, until her back hits the front door of Wilson's car. She gasps and he snatches the bottle of champagne out of her hand, putting it on the roof, just behind her head. Within the next, swift move he hooks his cane to the side-view mirror and, finally able to use both his arms, he lays his hands flat on the car, on both sides of her, at shoulder level, leaning forwards to imprison her in his embrace.

His face is an inch far from her face and it's a test, a game, a challenge. House is standing still and he can feel the rhythm of her breaths speed up noticeably while she stares back at him, perfectly immobile as well, as if she'd understood the implicit rules of his game but wasn't going to yield. Her mouth is half-open and her breath feels warm on his chin. It smells like wine and it makes him really want to kiss her, badly. He sighs instead and tilts his head down, slightly, so that his lips almost cover hers.

The sound of striding steps echoes in the far distance and Cuddy shivers imperceptibly. She looks modest and shy all of a sudden, and it fills him with an irrepressible need to hold her, protect her. So he caves first. Of course, he caves. But he doesn't even care. He wants to take her in his arms and bury his face into her neck, breathe the delicate scent of her skin there, where the warmth of her pulse changes the fragrance of her perfume and adds the unique blend of her flavor to it, her trademark, the smell of her. He lowers his hands slowly and puts them on her shoulders, then with a light pull he motions her to stand straight and pulls her closer to him. She doesn't resist when he lifts her off of the side of the car against which she's leaning. House seizes her coat's lapels and he brings her to his face to pick a kiss on her lips; delicate and soft at first, but soon passionate and greedy. He bites and she whimpers inside the cavity of his mouth while he tilts his head to the side to savor her better and thrust his tongue deeper to meet hers.

Their arms and hands fight for power and they bump into each other clumsily on their way to embrace each other and squeeze, tighter and stronger, as a wave of lust is now flooding through their veins, growing as intense and impatient as the kiss they're sharing. House slides his long fingers behind her skull and his thumbs press on her cheekbones, and she slides one arm around his waist, while the other is roaming his chest, with urgency, disorganized fervor and possessiveness. That's what he wants but even so, it takes him by surprise. He breaks apart from their kiss and gasps for air, panting, while he looks at her awestruck. Her hair is already a wild mess and her eyes glitter with that unmistakable sparkle of desire he knows so well.

"You're hot," he states matter-of-factly, as it is the first evidence that comes to his mind when he watches her smile mischievously at him.

"I'm not going down on you in a parking garage," she replies with a warning tone.

"What makes you think I want you to?" he says, undeniably taking her off guard.

Her mouth drops open and she stares at him confused, but intrigued at the same time.

"You said…"

"What? That you would make me happy?"

She nods, perplexed. House steps back and takes her hand to lead her with him to the front of the car.

"You really think I'm that much of a selfish bastard my only definition of getting off right now would be if you'd go south?" he asks her, frowning disapprovingly, while at the same time, he gently incites her to sit down on the hood of Wilson's car. She's not really aware of doing it and before she knows it, he steps forward and nestles between her legs, putting his hands underneath her skirt, and up her thighs.

"We're not doing it on Wilson's car…" she gasps but she sounds deliciously unsure of what she really wants to decline or accept.

He doesn't answer and it doesn't matter because words are not what he needs now to convey how he feels. He leans down and takes her mouth again. She offers her lips without resistance, then the line of her carotid next as she throws her head back to stretch her neck higher and give in to his kisses. He knows he's won when she moans as he hikes up her skirt higher and reaches for the hem of her panties. She wriggles on her butt and he plays with her desire, teasing her, just sliding his fingers underneath the lacy cloth of her panties but not taking them off… _yet_. He brushes the soft curls of her sex with the back of his index, down to the spot when her slit begins to part, and he goes up again while she spreads her legs wider, clutches his shoulders, pulling him to her demandingly, and imploring him with no words. So he nose dives in her neck and licks her tender flesh there. It makes her pant and the sound of it rises his arousal up another notch.

"Lie down," he instructs her in a whisper, and she does, without protesting.

He guides her down until her back meets the surface of the hood and instinctively she puts her heels on the bumper to keep her legs steady and give her position some balance. She looks amazing and her body, even more. Her skirt is hiked up to the top of her thighs, almost uncovering the complete length of her legs. The contact of the metallic surface with her bare skin must be cold though and she shivers, sucking in a sharp breath and trying to hide her discomfort. Looking at her, House suddenly takes his coat off and puts it out to her, motioning her to lift her hips so he can't slide it underneath her, like a blanket.

"Better?" he inquires, and he covers her kneecaps with his long hands to keep his balance while he slowly leans down between her legs.

He chooses an innocent spot, on her inner thigh, where her skin is silky but where it can't be too dangerous to taste her already. Neither for him, nor for her. He wants this to last, though he knows they've both practically consummated their virtual orgasm already, exhilarated by the forbiddance of the scenario. House's lips cautiously meet her skin and he lays a kiss there, tender and promising, his stubble merely scrapping her. Her response is incredible and instantaneous. She quivers at the sensation of his touch, her left hand reaching out for him blindly, while her hips jolt upwards.

"House…" she stutters. "We can't, someone could come, we…"

Something inside her wants to resist but she's just as unconvinced by her own reticence as can be, her hand which pulls him into her strongly an undeniably proof of it. He smiles along the skin of her thigh and, as a unique answer, kisses her again more fervently this time. His teeth graze and the tip of his tongue licks, and his lips suck and nibble and the wet, warm sensation of this trailing, leisure exploration is obviously doing wonder to her. The need to taste her more is pervading him irresistibly and he rests his hands on both sides of her legs, fondling the length of them from her ankles up to her knees, and higher to her hips where he finally reaches the waistband of her panties.

"Oh my God! This is crazy…" she gasps, but it is nothing other than a statement, as she's now perfectly aware of what he's about to do, and doesn't have the will to oppose any resistance anymore.

When he hooks the elastic band of her panties to take them off, she even arches up her back to help him get rid of them faster. The lacy cloth slides along her legs and past the high heels of her shoes and he rolls her panties into a ball before putting them in his pocket, a large beam illuminating his features. There's urgency in his yearning now, as he realizes what's happening, standing in front of her half-naked body and the movements of her legs, spreading out and shutting down flippantly but with a slight impatience, are conveying the sheer force of her desire. He bends over and before he even reaches her groin, she moans his name languorously, one of the most appealing sounds he wished to hear her say so many times during those long nights he spent alone, craving her touch before she finally became his _for real_.

First is the fragrance. He approaches her sex and her scent, lustful and intoxicating fills his nostrils with what he's persuaded must be the smell of the forbidden fruit. There's an addiction to it which has been immediate and inescapable the minute he first experienced it and he knows he can't get rid of it. He won't anymore; ever. Each time he thinks about it, he feels dizzy and it frightens him but he, who yet believes in nothing irrational, tells himself it's probably just how it is written and there is no way he can escape it. He doesn't want to anyway. His hands rest on both sides of her hips, somehow maintaining her down on the hood to control her erratic hip sways and he leans down again, until his lips touch her and he can open her with his tongue.

Second is the flavor. Salty but sweet. Sour but delicate. Her tang is a nectar and each drop of it is a proof of the desire _he_ is triggering inside her and there is no word to describe the feeling of fulfillment and pride it releases in him. He flattens her swollen clit with his tongue, without moving, and for a few seconds he just enjoys feeling the rhythm of her arousal pulsating against it. But Cuddy starts to writhe impatiently so to satisfy her growing demanding desire he begins to lick her briskly, drawing circles around her nub and then sucking it between his lips, applying with his tongue strokes the same ravenous pressure than the ones he would use to suck his cherry lollipops. He smiles inwardly at the metaphor that just popped into his mind because her clit is indeed like a cherry, rosy and pulpy, and tasting it feels like tasting the sweetness of the candies he snatches from the jar on the nurse's counter.

Third is the touch. House removes his right hand from her side and places it underneath his chin, searching for her entrance. When he feels her juices coat his fingers, he lets his instinct guide him inside her and pushes his middle finger deep inside her core. She instantly gasps loudly, several times, and her arousal rises up a notch noticeably as she clamps around him and imprisons him inside her warmth. Her tightness is an incredible sensation that never ceases to amaze him. Slowly, he adds a second digit and begins pumping leisurely in and out of her. One of her hand reaches out for his skull and she grabs a full strand of his hair, pulling at it unceremoniously, while the movements of her hips model on the rhythm of his fingers' thrusts and she rocks her pelvis up and down faster to incite him to increase his strokes. Surely there are universal codes for lovemaking but anyhow, he would know exactly what she wants just the same, even if she didn't move or say anything. He _feels_ her under his touch and he recognizes the changes in her pleasure by the way her walls tighten and release around his fingers. Her breathing speeds up too and he knows she's about to reach the jolts of her orgasm. Her gasps turns into whimpers, but she's instinctively put her other hand into her mouth to muffle the sound of her moans and all he can think about is a way to make her loose it until she can no longer hold back her cries.

Fourth is the sound. With his free hand, House slides under her ass and he hoists her up in one mighty, confident gesture and Cuddy instantly throws one of her legs over his shoulder, lifting the small of her back off the hood and clinging to him to stay upward. When he feels she's steady enough not to throw them both off balance, he removes his hand from her ass and stretches his arms towards her face to seize her hand and take it away from her mouth. He wants to hear her come, unreservedly, and there is no way he's going to let the sound of her orgasm die in the depth of her throat. She's too focused on the rising waves on her pleasure to notice and the second after, she lets out a loud moan, sensual and low, quickly followed by short, puffing pants, indicating she's hurtling over the edge. House's tongue strokes speed up on her clit and he thrusts faster and deeper inside her with his fingers until her gasps turn into husky moans and then into loud cries and suddenly a long wail, filled with liberated lust and orgasmic energy escapes her lips and resonates against the concrete walls, echoing all the way across the deserted space of the parking garage.

Fifth is the sight. The silence that falls right after is almost religious. They're both short of breath and the sound of their gasps only serves as a proof that all of this is real. House puts out his hand for her and when she seizes it, he pulls her up and welcomes her in his arms the moment she sits up straight on the hood. Her mouth is slightly parted and her eyes glitter with the sparkle of the afterglow. The pulp of her purple lips is wet and tiny pearls of sweat glisten just above her upper lip. Her chest goes up and down rapidly and her cheeks are flushed with heat. Her hair is a little sticky and one of her raven curls hangs loose on her forehead. House notices all those details in one single glance and he's suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling he fears might be larger than what his heart can handle. Staring at her, he raises his hands up to her face slowly and spreads his palms on both sides of her cheekbones, cradling her jaws, and combing her hair off of her forehead to clear her beautiful features.

"You're mine," he declares with a gruff voice, still holding her face inside his hands. "Wilson will never be able to do that to you… neither will Sam!"

Just slightly recovering from her amazing ride, Cuddy squints at him interrogatively and then bursts into laughter.

"Aww, so this is what it's all about?" she says giggling.

"What?" House groans, defensively.

"You didn't like it when I said I could consider a foursome with Wilson and Sam, did you?" Her smile widens and she looks at him with a fond gaze.

"I don't feel threatened."

"You're jealous," hhe corrects, "Just admit it."

"Cuddy, I know you," he says with sudden gravity, and his tone catches her off guard. "I know all your buttons. Like no one else. I know how to get you mad; and I know how to make you scream in pleasure. I know exactly where to press, what to say, how to say it. I know your silences and what they mean. I know your lies. I know how you try to hide them. I know why..."

She lets out a small gasp and bits her bottom lip, looking at him with eyes full of tenderness. House slides his hands off her face slowly and they land on her bare thighs. She lowers her head down and she stares at them for a second, and again, like always, every word he just said to her, simple and yet so intense, takes on a whole new meaning for her.

"Even with my eyes close, I know every inch of you. _Every inch_."

She stares at him in silence and raises her hand to caress his stubble. His mouth still glistens with her juices. She doesn't know what to say, so she just leans down and kisses him, greedily, tasting herself on his lips.

"You're mine," he repeats stubbornly when they break apart from their kiss, raising his chin up and challenging her with a possessive stare.

She smiles shyly and slides off of the hood, landing on the concrete floor in front of him and adjusting her skirt to tidy it up along her legs.

"I'm yours," she confirms solemnly, but with a coy gaze. "Now gimme back my panties!"

"No way!" he exclaims stepping away from her. "Those ones are going to complete my collection."

Cuddy's eyes widen and she stands agape for a second, staring at him in bafflement.

"What? You don't have any collection of _that_ kind!" she denies forcefully.

"You have to start at some point," he answers with a laugh, teasing her with a mischievous grin.

Resigned, she shakes her head and starts walking away, grabbing the bottle of champagne on top of the roof on her way.

"Wait!" he calls out after her. "Give me that." He's taken a piece of paper out of God knows where and he's scribbling something on it hastily.

"Why? What are you going to do?" she asks suspiciously.

"Don't you want to thank Wilson for that amazing evening we just spent?" he says with a devilish grin, holding out his hand to claim the bottle from her.

"I won that bottle. I don't wanna give it back." She pouts, squeezing the bottle against her, not yet resolute to let it go.

"You're a spoiled child." He takes one step forward and grabs the bottle out of her hand, "I'll give you plenty of other bottles like that one. I'll run you a bath with hundreds of bottles of champagne even, if you want!"

She rolls her eyes upward and releases her grip on the bottle. House carefully puts it on the hood of the car, where minutes before Cuddy was still lying, squirming in delight and panting her pleasure without restraint. Then he sticks the piece of paper on the bottle, rolling it around the neck and before Cuddy can approach, he straightens up and promptly seizes her by the hand, pulling her away with him.

"What did you write on that piece of paper?" she asks, turning her head back to look at the car, as House is striding off as fast as he can, dragging her away from the scene with him.

"Nothing that could make Wilson blush more than he already did tonight!" he answers mysteriously, and he laughs when she stares at him with a panic face, starting to struggle to set her hand free, fighting the irrepressible need to run back there and check by herself. "Tssk!" he says, suddenly stopping and looking her in the eyes reassuringly. "If you _must_ know," he then adds with emphasis, "I just wrote: 'Thank you.'"

Cuddy frowns dubiously.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," House replies, "I would gladly have left a more explicit message to tell him he maybe should consider washing his car or something, but I don't think that would have been very appropriate."

Cuddy's eyebrows fly up in surprise.

"Oh, you don't?"

"Why, Cuddy? You really think I totally lack decency and restraint? Pff, I'm hurt," he protests, faking to be shocked.

Cuddy suddenly feels embarrassed and guilty as she doesn't really know if she's upset him for real or if it's just another one of his antics.

"Well, I mean… I was just…" she starts, trying to defend herself.

A huge beam drawn on his face, House tightens his grip on her hand and pulls her to him, limping faster and forcing her to keep up with his pace.

"Good!" he says joyfully. "So now I can tell you to hurry up and drive us home really fast because I fully intend to have you reciprocate my favor as soon we walk through the front door."

She narrows her eyes at him for a split second, as if she were contemplating his offer.

"Deal!" she finally exclaims after a second, and she walks past him, hurrying to her car, leaving no doubt about how seriously she indeed means it.

**~ THE END ~**

* * *

_**A/N**_

_I hope you liked that little "illustration"_

_Reading your thoughts about it would undeniably be my cherry on top! _

_Tomorrow is the END of hiatus! Goddammit, FINALLY! :]_

_Have a nice week! __~ maya_


	3. Chapter 3

_Hi everybody!_

_That one-shot, with two-parts has now turned into a short story! _

_Yes, because I've been nagged. Again. To write a chapter where, as evoked in the previous one, Cuddy would reciprocate… as if you couldn't use your imagination to picture how it would go on your own! LOL…_

_Ok, ok, I'm kidding. Actually, I'm happy I've caved. I'm happy to have written this. In a way, almost insidiously, it's just exactly what I needed to find my way back into the writing process._

_So thank you __**Sophie**__, this LAST chapter is for you. (yeah, she's the nagging one you need to blame for this… or thank, that's your call…)._

_I also want to do a special dedication to __**Noémie**__ and __**Alwine**__, who were just sitting next to me at Hugh's concert in Paris and whose words (sometimes they think I don't hear them tweet… HAH!) encouraged me to write this reciprocation, maybe sooner than I would have otherwise. Thank you girls for your kindness and amazing support._

_Now BJ, BJ, BJ, BJ! __Enjoy… :-D_

* * *

**** JOLLY MOOD ****

_in which Cuddy reciprocates..._

House parks the car in her garage and turns the engine off. They decided he would be the one driving after all, considering Cuddy's inebriety when they left Wilson and Sam's, and House knew he did the right thing the second he drove out of the parking garage and saw her start to doze off in the passenger seat. Right now, however, the sudden silence interrupts her quiet slumber and she moans softly, turning to the side to look at him. Her smile is shy and her gaze somewhat blurry but she still looks like a million fuckable dollars. Too bad she's half asleep, House thinks, and probably too stoned to push the very promising warm-up they had less than an hour ago on the hood of Wilson's car any further. Next time, he'll try to be wiser when it comes to evaluate the right amount of alcohol he should give her to loosen her up. And yet, looking at her now, her adorable pout, her creased cheek and her messy hair, he feels like the luckiest bastard in the world, just for having her in his life. And even if, as he sees it, he will most certainly have to renounce to the sex part, the prospect of tucking her in and spoon alongside her hot, curvy body still arouses him enough in every fulfilling possible way.

"You're home," he whispers, leaning down to unbuckle her belt. "Get your ass out of the car and go finish your night in a real bed."

"Mmm-" she protests, stretching out like a lazy cat.

House can't repress a tender smile, but he tries to sound as much serious as he can when he says, "Come on, get up! I'm not carrying you to the bedroom, coz in case you don't remember, you went for the guy with a limp…" He loves saying that to her as a reminder to himself that she did, actually, chose him over anyone else; although he would never admit that in front of her.

When she still doesn't move, he opens the door and gets out, resignedly walking around the front of the car to get to her side and open the door for her.

"Plus, I'm not even sure gravity will let me lift that giant tush of yours off the ground," he says, grabbing her hand and pulling her to him.

She lands in his arms and instantly buries her face into the crook of his neck, giggling.

"You love my ass," she declares assertively. "Even your jokes about it tell me you do."

She draws back a little to eye him up and sends him a challenging, dangerously sexy look that instantly ignites that inescapable burning flame of desire inside him when her gaze meets his. He sighs, overwhelmed, enthralled but defeated, and mentally starts counting to infinity before all that growing, lustful energy turns into a drowning wave of frustration. He chooses not to answer and gently pulls on her hand instead to guide her out of the garage, through the back door, and into the kitchen. She follows docilely, holding onto his fingers forcefully and staggering a little behind him.

He doesn't turn on the light when they enter the kitchen. In his mind, they're only going to walk across the room and the pale moonlight that comes from the window and bathes the space with a blue halo is enough to help them find their way in the semi darkness. He's surprised when she suddenly stops and determinedly holds him back, pulling on his arm. He turns around and squints at her quizzically. Without a word, she lets go of his hand and in a train of fast and perfectly mastered gestures, she drops her handbag offhandedly on a chair behind her, gets rid of her scarf and coat and tosses them both on the backrest.

He's about to make a smartass comment, mostly to hide how much he's taken aback by the unexpected lucidity with which she just performed all those movements but she gets down on her knees next, just in front of him, and not a sound can escape his lips, not even with how wide his mouth just dropped open at the vision. She doesn't lose any time making unnecessary remarks about the marveled, boyish look on his face, but she sure does take advantage of it to unbuckle his belt and slide it out of his jeans loops before he can react. Not that she expects him to push her away anyway, _why would he?_ she thinks coyly, as she slowly unbuttons his pants.

The sound of his zipper being slide open jolts House out of his mute awe.

"Cuddy! What the fuck are you d-"

But she's pulled the waistband of his boxers down to grab his cock, now holding it in the palm of her hand like she would cradle a baby bird and again, the words die down in the back of his throat rending him incapable of finishing his sentence. She's put her right hand on his thigh for leverage and she tilts her head back a little to look up at him.

"I thought you wanted me to return the favor as soon as we'd walk through the door," she says mischievously, while her fingers nonchalantly brush along the still shyly semi-hard length of his member to awake it fully.

She doesn't let him elaborate past his gruff groan of amazed and grateful wonder, though. She leans down again and tantalizingly licks the head of his shaft with the tip of her tongue a few times before wrapping her lips around it and sucking him inside her mouth.

"Oh fuck!" House exclaims taking in a sharp breath and throwing his head back.

She slides his length out of her warm, wet mouth and pulls back to look at him.

"Are you saying you changed your mind?" she teases.

"Cuddyyyyyy," he beseeches with a moan.

"Is that a 'no'?" she insists, beaming.

And then he realizes: she's down on her knees in front of him, but he's the one completely at her mercy.

"No, no. Go on. Please, don't stop!"

"_Please_?" she repeats with a laugh. "Wow, you really do want this!"

"I went down on you on the hood of Wilson's car!" he protests, recovering his poise. "You had such a loud orgasm, I'm sure the people who live there heard you wail all the way up to the top floor-"

"Shut up!" she orders, yet smiling fondly at the memory.

"You more than owe me to reciprocate," he states confidently.

"Take your coat off!" she commands, ignoring his comment.

The next second, his woolen overcoat falls on the floor next to her. Cuddy smiles but takes her time, delicately cupping his balls in her left hand and nuzzling up his belly button, rubbing her nose against his skin. The warmth of her blow on his lower abdomen, the softness of her touch, the incredible sensation of her slender hand massaging his balls… It all drives him absolutely crazy. He can't hold back the need to cradle her skull in his hands and comb her hair with his long fingers, unconsciously guiding her where he longs her to be. She deciphers the impatience underneath the yearning and takes him into her mouth again. With each agonizingly slow back and forth movement of her lips around his shaft, she can feel it become harder and bigger and that proof of his absolute, unconditional surrendering to her gives her an amazing feeling of almightiness over his manliness.

She moans appreciatively when his desire for her finally reaches a size that fills her mouth completely. She loves that sensation so much, the taste of him, the silkiness of his skin on her tongue, the smell of his arousal. And she knows he loves it too, beyond reason. She feels his cock throb inside her mouth as she sucks him in and out, with an eagerness that surprises even her. But the sound of his moans and the way his hips thrust forward to deepen the penetration and set his own pace indicate her that he's already about to lose it completely and she feels a sudden need to get rewarded for her efforts rise inside her.

She puts her hands on his thighs and draws back, standing up again almost immediately after. He looks at her, incredulous, and even a little bit resentfully as if saying: "Don't you dare stop!"

"Dammit! Cuddy, wh-"

She doesn't allow him to express his frustration but silences him with a hungry full-mouth kiss instead, thrusting her tongue between his lips and letting him taste his tang in her mouth. She wants him now, forcefully, and before he has a chance to resist, she possessively grabs him by his shirt's lapels and yanks him with her, until the small of her back meets with the edge of the kitchen table. He topples forward and seizes her by the shoulders to make her stop fidgeting.

"What. Are. You. Doing?" he asks, staring her right in the eyes, still panting from the high he was about to reach only seconds earlier.

"I want you to fuck me," she declares assertively, at the same time impatiently reaching for the hem of her skirt and hiking it up past her hips.

He watches her mouth agape as she sits down on the table in front of him and he realizes she isn't wearing panties, but then he remembers he'd put them in his pocket after he pleasured her on Wilson's car. She spreads her legs open and takes his hand, to pull him towards her and guide him between her thighs. He doesn't have time to protest, doesn't have time to say anything. She seizes both his jeans and boxers' waistbands and tugs them down along his thighs in one swift, decided gesture.

"You're drunk," he tells her, incapable of repressing a gleeful grin.

She shakes her head 'no' teasingly and before he has time to anticipate her next move, she throws her left leg up in the air and self-confidently puts her foot down on his shoulder.

"If I were drunk, would I be able to do this?" she asks, as a spell-binding, lustful look illuminates her face.

She however loses her balance a little and he promptly wraps his arms around her waist to catch her in his embrace before she risks falling head over feet on the table. Completely unashamed, she straightens herself up and slides her hands around his neck. Smiling roguishly, madly turned-on by her acrobatic, tipsy demonstration of sexual craving, House slowly lifts his hand up to touch her foot and caresses the length of her bare leg, from the delicate bone of her ankle, resting on his clavicle, down to her upper thigh, and the round outlines of her ass. Their irises are aflame with desire and the way they intensely stare at each other in that instant could easily set the room on fire. Cuddy takes a deep breath, not letting go of his gaze and leans down to his face, coming so close to him, she's barely one inch away from touching his lips with hers.

"You have incredible eyes," she tells him with a low, trailing voice.

"Yours ain't bad either," he replies, without missing a bit, aroused by her disconnected, unusual train of thoughts.

"Are you going to fuck me now?" she blows in a whisper, sensually rubbing her nose against his. "It feels like forever since the last time you did. I want to feel you inside me-"

He raises his hand to her face and puts his thumb on her lower lip, gently pressing on her chin to open her mouth.

"If you'd remember, my little horny babe, that's exactly where I was," he reminds her, grazing her bottom lip with his teeth, "_this morning_."

She pouts sulkily and theatrically rolls her eyes to add emphasis to her frustration.

"Yeah, yeah… OK!" she admits and his smile widens. "Why don't you stop making smartass comments now and do it again, then?"

What man in his right mind would decline that offer? None, he tells himself as she tilts her head back to offer her cleavage to his mouth. He nose-dives between her breasts and kisses the plump curves of her ivory skin there, while she puts out her hand to grab his cock and wraps it inside her hands, kneading and pressing its length eagerly. The burning contact of her impatient, demanding fingers on his hard member instantly accentuates his need for her and he grips her by the hips to position her close enough to the table's edge to be able to take her right there and then like he's dying to now. When she is, he slides his hand up her thighs and brushes her wet slit with the tip of his fingers. She gasps against his cheek as a shiver of anticipation jolts her whole body. He doesn't need to do anything. She takes care of it all and guides the head of his shaft towards her entrance. Her pelvis finds a perfect angle that allows him to thrust inside her effortlessly, inch after inch, and dive into the mind-blowing tightness of her moist core. When he can feel his hard length completely sheathed inside her, he closes his eyes and allows himself to pause, long enough to exhale slowly and enjoy that amazing, never-getting-old sensation.

One of her feet still rests on his shoulder while the other presses on his naked butt, her leg wrapped around his waist. With her hands, she grips his shoulders and her fingers clutch him through the fabric of his shirt. Although he cannot have an overview of their entwined bodies, he's absolutely convinced it must look like the most fucking awesome thing ever and that thought in itself is enough to increase the intensity of his pleasure considerably. He pulls out, taking all the time in the world, making her feel every pulsating inch of his desire slide out of her, before pushing his cock back inside her with a slamming thrust that squeezes a shout in her throat. Her head is thrown back, the long, thin line of her neck stretched out, her chin is up and her eyes are closed while she starts panting, short of breath and he can feel her nails dig deeper into the flesh of his back as he repeats the process again, and again, one strong, confident shove after the other.

"Oh yes… Oh yesss!" she moans in his ear, and that unique lustful sound, near a primal groan, sends shivers of pleasure down his spine and it feels a thousand times better than any other sensations he can be aware of in that moment.

Sex is a release, a biological need, a ticking bomb made of raw emotions that threaten to blow up any second. Sex is good. It makes him feels good, it always has, no matter whom he used to have it with but with her… It's always been something completely different all together. No matter how hard he tries to deny it, he knows. Holding her in his arms, feeling her juices coat his hard member, tasting the sweetened flavor of her lips, filling his nostrils with the smell of her sweat, which only the force of sex can release, every one of these incomparable experiences makes him feel larger than the universe.

Sex with her is a trip to heaven, an ego boost, a reason not to despise life as strongly as he's used to. It creates a perfect symbiosis between their bodies made to complete each other. But sex with her is also the most amazing antagonistic release of absolutely opposite sensations: it hurts and it feels blissfully good. It's fascinating and scary. It's intense and so quiet at the same time. It's a fight for power and a shameless surrender, a compelling need to give tenderness and an inescapable desire to accept dominance. Sex with her is an addiction.

While he keeps thrusting inside her, absolutely focused on every atom of her body he can feel react under his touch, he peels her off her shirt and merely stops to admire the perfect outlines of her lacy bra cups, before unhooking it and tossing it on the floor behind him. Her bare breasts, each of which he cradles inside the palm of his hands, are exactly what he needed to complete this astonishing high. He fondles and kneads and massages unceremoniously and she moans unreservedly now, as he keeps ramming inside her, faster and harder.

Not that he doesn't get all the perfect, growing vibe of a promising orgasm out of their unconventional position, but House suddenly needs to feel her closer to him, he needs to be inside her deeper, lick her navel and suck her erect nipples, and roam her body with his hands, everywhere… but her leg on his shoulder is a barrier that keeps their sweaty bodies apart. Gently, but compellingly, he shifts his weight forward to force her to lean back. She loses her balance and grabs his arms tightly to sit up straight again.

"Don't resist," he says in a teasing voice, guiding her down towards the table again. "I need you to lie down-"

She complies docilely and as soon as her back hits the table, he seizes her foot and gently lifts it off of his shoulder, sliding it to his side and finally clearing access to her body. He leans over and licks the salty beads of sweat off her perfect, taut belly, and then traces a line of kisses on her skin that guides his lips to the hardness of her erect nipples. As he starts to nip mercilessly, her legs instinctively find their way around his waist again, imprisoning him in her heat but irremediably slowing down his pace at the same time.

But that's not how he wants it.

Standing up straight again, he moves her knees away from the sides of his waist to free his hips. Putting both his palms on her inner thighs next, just under her groin, he spreads her legs wide open, strongly pressing to pine them down on the table. She doesn't even wince at the incredible stretched position he imposes on her. She smiles instead, sexily, to show him she wants it like that too, just as much as he does and he inwardly blesses yoga for giving him the supplest girlfriend a man could dream of to assuage his lustful cravings. Slowly drawing his cock out of her, while his hands still press on her legs firmly, House tilts his head down and watches her writhe like a worm to try and capture him back inside her.

"What do you want me to do?" he asks, teasingly, torturing her with maddeningly light pressures on her entrance with the head of his shaft, just enough to let her know he's still there, but not hard enough to penetrate her.

"Fuck me," she answers, hissing her barely contained frustration through clenched teeth.

"I didn't hear you."

"Fuck me," she repeats louder, her voice wobbling with impatience.

He sends her one challenging gaze that says 'get ready for this' and he pushes his full length back inside her in one mighty thrust, possessive and confident. The force of his hammering shove sends her body away from the edge of the table and he instantly unceremoniously brings her back to her initial position, griping her hips to thrust inside her again, just as strong and deep as he just did.

"Like that?" he asks.

The only answer he gets is the sound of her gasping in delighted surprise. Not fully satisfied by her lack of vocal response, he leans down and seizes her wrists in his hands. He squeezes them tight and she fights his grasp, jerking her shoulders to free herself, but he keeps her elbows down on the table and her arms pressed along the sides of her body as he pulls on her wrists to bring her closer to his pelvis, increase the depth of his shoves, and control the backward jolts of her body each time he rams inside her.

"Like that?" he reiterates after a few powerful thrusts which he knows, from the look on her face, undeniably sent her hurtling near the edge.

She locks eyes with him, daringly, as she keeps struggling, trying to free her hands and jerking her hips up, meeting each one of his thrusts with a perfect rhythm. She smiles, but she says nothing. She refuses to give him what he wants. And suddenly, as tightly as he was holding her the second before, he lets go of her wrists. Her hands fall down on the table and immediately after, with no warning, not a word uttered between them, just the power of their gaze on each other, they both stop moving. Perfectly still, they intensely stare at each other, the sudden, absolute silence that fills the room only disturbed by the raspy sound of their breathless pants, as if they'd been running a race.

"Yes," She simply says, after a timeless moment of inertness.

A victorious smile flickers on the corner of his lips and he bends over to cup her face inside his hands. With an extreme tenderness that undeniably contrasts with the rawness of their previous outburst towards each other, he cradles her cheeks inside the palms of his hands and he pulls her face up delicately. She props herself up on her elbows to help her sit up straight and when she is, seated, and snuggled up in his arms, he kisses her lips. Softly. He sucks her lips inside his mouth and he tastes her. She melts and all the tension in her muscles disappears within that kiss. Her body feels like jelly. House's hands slide slowly from her face to her shoulders and along her arms and he continues to kiss her, with a growing fervor. His tongue licks her teeth and the inside of her lips while his hands keep caressing her body fondly. She feels them on her waist, then for a brief instant, they climb up to her breasts and he plays with her hard nipple with the tip of his thumb. She moans inside his mouth but it doesn't last long. His hands go back to her waist and circle round her hips to rest on the small of her back. And that's the moment when he begins to thrust inside her again. Gently.

"And like that?" he whispers inside her ear, rubbing his nose along the nape of her neck.

She arches forward and she wraps her hands around his neck.

"Yes. Like that. Just like that," she answers and he can picture her smile over his shoulder.

The dance starts again, and it's not a battle for dominance anymore, not an overpowering release of lust. It's just love.

Sex is a release, a biological need, a ticking bomb made of raw emotions that threaten to blow up any second.

Sex is good.

But with her, it's always been something completely different all together.

** THE END **

* * *

_**A/N**_

_For real this time! :-D_

_Coz nobody is going to reciprocate anything now… just saying! _

_Anyway, I hope you liked it. It's odd, but in a way, right now, that's the only thing I feel I'm capable of writing between them. it's as if it were the farther I could go into their alternate universe._

_Since they don't exist anymore, but are still SO vivid within our memories – at least mine, I only feel comfortable when I'm not wandering too close to what could still be a plausible depiction of their once "real" interactions. And since sex never was, it's the safest place I could go… for now._

_Oh, and my philosophy does not prohibit comments. AT ALL... ;-P_

_Take care, have fun, go crazy! __~ maya_


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